Working It Out
by Idan
Summary: Tag to 7x08, The Whites of His Eyes. Jane and Lisbon try to work things out. Now complete!
1. Jane

**Disclaimer**: I own no rights to The Mentalist and make no money from fanfiction. Rest assured if I figure out how to monetize it I will start giving seminars on how to do so immediately!

**Author's Note**: I'm sure a lot of us wanted an extension of that last scene. Here's my version!

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><p>I learned a long time ago not to stand too close when Lisbon is angry. So I make sure I keep out of reach at the elevator, though once we're inside I'll be within punching distance. She drove this morning, so I have no choice, though I'd prefer to let her stew on her own. My presence will only be an irritant to her until she's calmed down.<p>

I'm in for a lonely night.

Maybe I deserve it. She's right; my interfering with her job is a big problem, not just for FBI reasons, but because she sees it as me reverting to my secretive, controlling ways she hated so much. I knew it would be a problem before I did it. But I did it anyway, because when the moment came I wasn't thinking about her job or my job or how angry she would be.

All I could see was that bullet hole in her sleeve and Spackman bleeding on the floor. And worse, what might have happened if he'd sent Lisbon around back instead of going himself.

Terrified doesn't begin to describe the sheer, white-out panic that washed through me. Good thing Wylie was too caught up in the action to notice.

Does she understand that I had no choice? That it wasn't some crafty plot, just a desperate improvisation? Maybe when she calms down.

There's no one in the elevator when we board, but Lisbon is too lost in her thoughts to be interested in punching me, which is both a relief and nerve-wracking. It takes all my self-control to refrain from wisecracks to relieve the tension or treating her to my own rendition of "Living on a Prayer." I need to show her I respect her anger, that I know it's justified, not make light of it or try to avoid it. But it goes against every instinct I have.

We don't say a word on the drive to the Airstream. I need to let her work through her feelings, and she's having our argument in her head just like I am. It's not a new one, after all: it's the same issue we've always had. She wants to follow the rules; I'll break every single one of them in pursuit of my personal goals. And Lisbon is just as uncomfortable with my goal of ensuring her safety as she was with my goal of vengeance, strange as that might sound. It clashes with her self image as the protector and makes her think about things cops try not to think about.

I comfort myself that this is a work problem with a work solution. She's not going to leave me over it, probably. And I doubt Abbott will agree to separate us at work, because he knows me too well.

Lisbon parks but doesn't turn off the engine, which isn't surprising but costs me a pang nonetheless. I can't leave her in silence, so I clear my throat and say, "I know you feel like I took something away from you, removing you from the action. You're hurt and angry and you have every right to be. I can't say I'm sorry for what I did, and I know you understand the reasons. But I am sorry I've made you unhappy. I'm always sorry for that."

"But it never stops you," she grumbles.

No. And it never will. But I don't want or need to say that, so I just say, "Good night" and get out of the car.

The Airstream feels empty and unwelcoming as I enter, but I'm vaguely comforted that Lisbon doesn't pull away, watching to make sure I'm safely inside. This is only a temporary separation, probably no longer than this one night. We've both gotten used to sharing a bed, and she probably won't sleep any better than I will. The thought makes me even sadder.

I put the kettle on and sit on the sofa, sighing. I'd almost forgotten my least favorite part of being in a couple: fighting over intractable issues. Angela and I had our fair share, and we never did resolve the biggest one of all. If she'd lived, I wonder how we would have settled it? When Charlotte got old enough to understand what I did and compare it to what her friends' parents did, would that have swayed me? I like to think so, but I was a different man then. Maybe I would have lied to my little girl, pretending I was a psychic even to her. Maybe I would have destroyed my family even without that disastrous TV interview, just over a longer timeframe.

I realize I'm twisting my ring on my finger and stare at it. Guilt is the main reason I wear it, if I'm being honest. I was a crappy husband, but I was faithful. After she was gone, I held onto that. I know if Angela were aware of the situation, she would tell me to stop being an idiot and take it off, but since she can't, I'm using my self-punishment for being a bad husband to compound my problems by being a bad boyfriend. How screwed up is that? It's a wonder Lisbon puts up with me.

Maybe not for much longer. I can't say I'd blame her.

I'm startled out of my deepening funk by the door being flung open. Lisbon marches in and gives me an exasperated look. "We're not done talking."

I gape at her for a second. "I didn't think we were," I finally manage to say.

"I'm not staying here tonight. Get your stuff and let's go."

I know better than to argue.

mmm

Lisbon doesn't like to fight while she's driving, though sometimes she can't help it. So I have time to think on the drive. While I'm pleased she didn't leave me to suffer alone, I'm well aware that it's not a good sign she wants to be on her turf while we talk.

On the other hand, her bed is bigger, so there's a chance I might get to sleep in it instead of on the couch.

The other thing that worries me is how jittery she is. Lisbon hates to talk about her feelings, and she is obviously revving herself up to do just that. Is my silence unnerving her? She keeps darting little glances my way as if expecting me to speak.

"We will, you know," I say. "Work it out."

"How?" Her tone is part annoyed, part anguished. "Don't you realize the impossible position you've put me in? Next time we're in the middle of something and you give me a direction, how am I supposed to know whether you're really trying to get the bad guy, or get me out of the way?"

Ah, our trust issues are back with a vengeance. "Teresa, I have always—_always_—structured my plans with your safety in mind. The only thing that's different is this time you knew I was anxious and you spotted it." A nasty thought occurs. "Is that why you didn't answer me at first? You figured it out and decided to make me sweat?"

She hunches down in her seat slightly. "Not...on purpose."

That's a yes. "I'd like to point out that keeping you out of the line of fire in no way kept us from getting the bad guy and keeping Lilly safe."

"Oh, no, of course not," she huffs. "The great Patrick Jane plans for every contingency. We're just your little puppets, following your script."

"A script I wrote with your help, and that you, Abbott, and Cho signed off on. If I recall correctly, you even called it a good plan."

She snorts, unable to refute the argument. Fortunately we're pulling up to her house by then, and I follow her inside, dropping my bag by the door. "Hungry?" I ask.

"No." She won't be calm enough to eat until she can see a way forward that isn't too painful.

"Okay." I sit on the couch so she can look down while she yells at me. Now I just need to get her started. "So. You caught a look behind the curtain and didn't like what you saw."

"You interfered with me doing my job, Jane. This isn't just about you manipulating me. God knows I should be used to that by now," she says bitterly.

Ouch. But I'm not going to rehash our history. "It wasn't an ideal situation. If I had my way, you wouldn't have been anywhere near that hotel. Why don't you tell me what ideal would look like for you."

"I would have stayed with the team. Most of whom didn't get hurt!"

"Except for the one who got knocked out," I point out.

Lisbon folds her arms and glares at me. "That's the risk we all take, Jane. Taking me out increased the risk for the others. What if one of them had gotten killed? I'd always wonder if I could have stopped it. How could you do that to me, make me walk around with that guilt for the rest of my life?"

"At least you'd be alive. And I could breathe," I sigh.

She rubs at her forehead, pacing a few steps. I keep silent until I can't bear it anymore. "Teresa, nothing has changed in how I approach these things. I've always gone to great lengths to protect you, even when I knew it was going to make you furious with me." A sunset hug comes to mind. "You just never attributed it to affection before. But that was always a huge part of it for me."

"If you love someone, you don't try to control them!"

And our second biggest issue makes an appearance. "Control is a strong word," I say. "You could have decided to stay with the team and send Cho."

"Not without looking like a coward," she grumbles.

"Teresa, you know me," I remind her. "I'm not some nice normal guy who works in law enforcement and if you died on the job would take comfort in the fact that you were doing your duty as a great cop. I'm a man who's already lived his worst nightmare once and can't face it again. There's nothing that will ever make me okay with you being at risk, and nothing I wouldn't sacrifice to ensure your safety. Even your love, if necessary. Because I can't survive looking at the bloody corpse of another woman I love."

Lisbon lets out a long, heavy sigh. "Jane, I'm a cop. It's who I am."

"No, it's not. It's what you do. Who you are is a kind, loving woman who protects the people she cares about and wants to leave a positive legacy in this world. There are several other things you could do and still be true to yourself."

"Beekeeping? Sailing around the world?" she scoffs.

"Guardian ad litem for children in the system. Foster parent, even."

"Are you asking me to quit the FBI? Why did you insist on getting me this job in the first place, then?"

"I'd never ask you to quit your job, though I confess I'd prefer it if you took a promotion out of the field," I say carefully. "And I wanted Abbott to hire you so we could work together. I...had forgotten how my heart stops every time someone fires a gun in your vicinity. Working together was something we both enjoyed, and I thought that was all I was ever going to be able to offer you. But it's different now."

"Yeah, it is." Lisbon comes to sit beside me, laying a hand on my shoulder. "Jane, it's not like I don't get it. I'm scared every time somebody comes at you too. And I don't know what I'd do if...if someday I'm too late."

"But that's the difference, Teresa. You don't know. I do. I know that dark, dark place. And I know I'd never crawl out again. I can't...I don't have the words to describe what it was like. Please...please don't ask me to face it again." I swallow hard, trying to get my voice back under control.

Lisbon puts her arms around me and lays her head against mine. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just...some reasonable accommodation," I say. "I will try to reserve pulling you out of harm's way for when there's real danger I can't bear, and you try not to punish me for it."

She sighs again. "I'll try. But if that ever ends up getting someone hurt or letting a criminal get away, we're revisiting this deal. Got it?"

"Got it."

"And," she adds, rubbing my back, "every time I catch you brooding, I'm allowed to sing you a lullaby. Obligated, even."

I slide my arms around her. "I promise to listen to you warble cheesy 80s rock songs as my penance. Even when I'm old and deaf. Especially when I'm old and deaf."

"Ha, ha." She gives me a playful punch, then kisses my cheek. "I do understand, Patrick," she whispers in my ear.

She doesn't, but I know she's trying. It's enough.

"Now how about some dinner? You can apologize for being presumptuous by cooking."

"I'd love to," I smile.

"And then we can get a good night's sleep."

"No lullaby necessary," I agree.

But as I work in the kitchen, I hear her start to sing again. "Living on a Prayer" isn't one of my favorite songs, but I suppose it's inspirational in its way. I can live with it.

Who knows? In 50 years or so, I might even learn to love it.


	2. Lisbon

**Author's Note: **So it turns out this is a multi chapter, a three-parter I think. Lisbon had to have her say, and after this I think Abbott will weigh in. Thanks in advance for sticking with it! And many thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites on the first chapter!

**Chapter 2: Lisbon**

While Jane rattles around in the kitchen, I shake my head and try to believe everything's going to be okay. I'm perfectly aware that the deal I've just agreed to is only preserving the status quo, so it's not a solution. It's a truce at best.

But a truce is better than war, especially for us. I spent so long struggling with Jane, hiding my feelings for him, and I love not having to do that anymore. I don't want to go back to that. And I know breaking up would probably be temporary, because it would be excruciating for both of us.

Part of me thinks I'm being weak, because if anybody else had pulled a stunt like Jane did today, I'd have kicked him to the curb without a second thought. But Jane isn't just some guy; he's the man I love. And he's been a huge part of my life for so long that I can't imagine it without him.

Plus, he's right: he's not a normal man. He's got scars beneath that cheerful grin, and I of all people know that. He hides them so well I sometimes forget, but I shouldn't. I knew what I was getting into with him, so I have no right to be shocked at what he did. Angry, yes, but not surprised. I should have seen this coming. I guess I just didn't want to, because we're so good together that I could overlook this one basic way we're incompatible.

It scares me, because I don't know how to fix it. Even if Jane would get counseling (yeah, right), he probably would never get back to a normal level of fear of losing me, if there is such a thing. And I love my job. So what can we do?

I hate what this does to him. It doesn't seem right to go on choosing to cause someone I love so much anxiety.

But on the other hand, why should I sacrifice my career, which I've worked so hard for? The feminist in me thinks changing for a man is a threat to my identity. And what if I regretted it, resented it? That wouldn't be good for our relationship either.

Can we hang on like this for a few more years? Eventually that promotion Jane mentioned will come my way, and at my age I know I can't be in the field forever. But the other side of that argument is that if it's inevitable anyway, what would it hurt to just do it now?

Ugh. I don't know. I'm not going to figure it out tonight, obviously.

But I'm glad I didn't follow through on my plan to spend the night alone. It wouldn't have done either of us any good. I was furious with him—still am, really—but when I saw his shoulders slump as he walked into the Airstream, I knew he was going to spend the night brooding, getting more and more depressed. By the time morning rolled around, he'd probably have convinced himself we were over, or he was bad for me, or something.

The hope in his eyes when I went in to get him cut at my heart, because it told me he was already resigned to his misery. And no matter how mad I am, I never want him to be miserable. Even when he deserves it. He's had way too much already.

Something has to change, but not tonight. Until we figure it out, we'll just keep trying. I guess this is why people say relationships are hard work.

I realize I'm humming the lullaby I sang last night. It's fitting, so I sing a couple of verses, just to remind myself that tough times don't last forever. We'll make it.

mmm

Jane makes spaghetti for dinner, comfort food after a hard day, and opens a bottle of red wine to go with it. The salad was obviously an afterthought, but I appreciate it, since he isn't big on rabbit food.

"It's good. Thanks," I say, and he beams at me. Then he reaches for my hand so he can hold it while we eat.

I'm surprised, but I smile back at him. Jane doesn't often initiate touch, so it's always special when he does. He's made it clear that I'm welcome to touch him, but otherwise he hasn't changed his behavior much. I don't know if he was always this way, or if it's the result of his trauma, or if it's because I asked him to keep our relationship under wraps. But I know it's not a lack of love, just like I know him wearing his ring isn't. And the fact that he's not a snuggler in bed, except right after sex, isn't anything to do with me; it's about the trouble he has falling asleep and that he wakes up if his arm falls asleep because I'm lying on it.

I love knowing these things about him, after so long wondering what was going on in his head. And I love that he is more honest with me now, that he didn't try to deny what he'd done. But I can't have him doing stuff like that again.

"I think we should talk to Abbott," I say.

"About?"

"He should know before he lets you run an operation again that you have a conflict of interest." This is the only way I can square our deal with my conscience. I grimace, though, because that means telling our boss about our relationship.

"He already knows," Jane says. "In fact, I'd be surprised if he hasn't come to the same conclusion you did."

"What? You told him?" I drop my fork, angry all over again.

"No," Jane says quickly. "And I denied it when he asked. He laughed and made it clear he wasn't convinced. But if you'd like to discuss this issue with him, feel free. I think it might put your mind at rest."

What is this, a conspiracy? "Why didn't you tell me? Who else knows?"

"No one that I know of. Vega's too busy trying to fit in, Wylie thinks you hung the moon, and Cho very much does not want to get involved in another workplace romance, so he's in denial."

"You should have told me Abbott knows. How long?"

"Probably since Florida, but the conversation I'm referring to happened right after we came back to work. He, uh, wanted to let me know Pike was in the building."

"Wait a minute. You knew Marcus was there and didn't tell me?" This just gets worse. Maybe I should scrap the whole "thank God he's being so honest with me now" thing.

"Um, well, I didn't really get a chance." At least he has the sense to look sheepish. "Abbott caught me on my way out, and I...I suppose I thought if Pike was going to come see you, it would be then. When he didn't, I thought there was no need to bring it up."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "I hate when you decide what I should know. You know that."

"Yes," he admits, his hand tightening on mine like he's afraid I'm going to yank it away. "Old habits die hard. I'm...I'll try to do better."

Yeah, right. The smug bastard's going to just keep right on not telling me stuff he doesn't want to, and we both know it. That habit goes back way further than Red John, I bet, and I don't think he'll change it anytime soon.

This, I realize, is the end of the honeymoon phase. Jane is a great lover and, until today, seemingly a great boyfriend. But he's still Jane, the man who drove me crazy for years with his secrecy and manipulation. That didn't all go away when he said he loved me, though it faded to the background while we explored our new relationship.

Can I live with that? Well, I did for years, and that was without the fantastic sex. And I just can't see myself walking away from him. But if he's not going to change, I don't think I should have to either.

"Here's the thing, Jane. If I compromise for the sake of this relationship, I need to know that you compromise too."

"Other than bearing your gloating over your fierce foosball skills with a good grace? Oh, and being willing to buy chicken wings." He shudders.

"I'm serious."

He sighs. "I know. What compromise are you looking for? I'll never compromise on your safety, but anything else is on the table."

"I need you to stop withholding information. First you don't give me a heads up that Marcus is in the building, then you decide not to tell me you kissed Erika Flynn, and now you tell me our boss has known about us all along. I realize it's a process, but I need to see some progress."

"Okay." Jane looks anxious, but his voice is determined.

"And next time you're scared, you need to tell me instead of tricking me."

"Teresa, I did tell you. The night before."

"I know. And I know now I shouldn't have tried to reassure you instead of talking it through. We both need to do better next time."

"I don't want there to be a next time," he says, frowning.

"But there will be."

"Does there have to be? If I'm going to overcome my habit of secrecy, what's your compromise?"

I sigh. "That's what we need to talk to Abbott about. Maybe we can try to avoid being in dangerous situations together."

"No," Jane says, looking alarmed. "If you're in danger, I want to be there. To help. I...I don't want to be too late again."

I squeeze his hand to let him know I understand. I don't like the idea of him being in danger without me, either. The difference is, I know he usually avoids the line of fire, while it's my job to be in it. I try to put myself in his shoes, just long enough to feel what a nerve-wracking place that is.

"Okay. But he needs to know that you might not always make the right calls for the team or the case because you're worried about me." From a professional standpoint, this is Abbott's call. Maybe he has some solution we can all live with.

"Fine. As I said, I think he already knows."

I'm still not looking forward to it. But it has to be done. "Fine." I get up, picking up our plates. He cooks, I clean. If only all our issues were as easy to solve.

Jane follows me to the kitchen, carrying the rest of the dishes and setting them down in the sink. Then he pulls me into his arms and holds me tightly, his fingers restless on my back and his face buried in my hair.

"It'll be okay," I whisper. "We'll figure it out."

"Yeah," he whispers back. His voice is thick, like he's trying not to cry, and I hug him harder. After a minute, he clears his throat and says, "You're pretty good at this relationship stuff, you know."

I guess we both thought I wouldn't be, since I don't really have any experience. But then, I have plenty of experience dealing with Jane. "Thanks."

He yawns, so I pull back to look at him. He's exhausted after a sleepless night and a stressful day. I suggest, "Let's leave the dishes and go to bed."

"Okay. I'll just put the extra sauce in the fridge and be right there."

I head for the bathroom to brush my teeth, then get into my comfy sleep shirt. I'm snug and warm in bed by the time Jane joins me in his pajamas. To my surprise, he rolls onto his side and gathers me into his arms, kissing my hair. I settle against him, sliding a leg up over his and resting my arm across his waist. "Sweet dreams," I say.

"You too," he yawns. A few minutes later, he's asleep, and I try to roll away so his arm won't fall asleep beneath my weight. But he won't let me go, making a little unhappy grunt, so I stay where I am.

He was really scared, I know. He always will be. I don't like it, but I can't change it, except by changing jobs. But I will take better care of him from now on, for both our sakes. Because I love him, and I'm not going to give up on him.


	3. Abbott

**Author's Note: **This is my first try at getting into Abbott's head, so I hope it sounds authentic. Please let me know if you have any pointers! And I think this is going to require a wrap-up chapter, so one more to go. Thanks for sticking with the story!

**Chapter 3: Abbott**

I'm only halfway through my first cup of coffee when there's a knock at my door. I look up to see Jane and Lisbon there, and I can tell from their expressions that they didn't drop by to see how my morning is going.

Badly, by the way. And from the looks of it, about to get worse.

"Come in," I invite them, taking a few sips of my cooling coffee.

Jane ushers Lisbon in and closes the door behind him. Probably not case related, then. Lisbon looks like an honor student getting called to the principal's office, and Jane chooses to sit on the arm of her chair instead of in the other one. He leans in, bracing himself with a hand on the back of the chair. Offering her moral support, I conclude.

Have they come to tell me she's pregnant? I can't say I'd be sorry, though I hate to lose such a talented field agent, even if it's just for maternity leave.

Neither of them says anything at first, which is a little surprising and a lot irritating. I have a ton of work to do, so I need to get whatever this is over with. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Lisbon glances at Jane, obviously wanting him to explain whatever it is. He looks at her and then me and says, "Lisbon is worried that you think my evaluation of situations involving her is objective."

I have to chuckle, shaking my head a little. "I've made plenty of mistakes in my time, but not that one."

Jane smiles for a second, but Lisbon looks annoyed. Uh oh. Trouble in paradise.

"What Jane means," she says, "is that he sent me on a wild goose chase yesterday to keep me out of the line of fire."

"Is that so," I say slowly. I hadn't given it any thought, but I can't say I'm surprised.

"Yes," Jane says.

Obviously this meeting is meant to placate Lisbon, who must be pissed as hell at him. No agent likes to miss the action, and his trying to keep her out of harm's way probably struck her as a lack of confidence in her abilities. Oh boy.

Jane doesn't look the least bit apologetic, and he's not worried I'm going to reprimand him, though Lisbon definitely expects me to. But trying to change Jane's behavior is a losing battle. He'll do anything to protect her, period. Just like I'll do anything to protect Lena. I understand where he's coming from, and I know nothing I do or say will change that.

It's Lisbon I need to redirect here, even though she's in the right. And I appreciate that. But I need Jane, not just for our solve rate, but for Lena.

Lisbon says, "I've pointed out to him that taking me off the protective detail increased the risk to the rest of the team, not to mention the witness."

I look at Jane. She has an excellent point, but I bet Jane thinks he mitigated that risk.

He shrugs. "I accounted for the possibility that someone would need to run down suspects when we chose the escorts."

Lisbon glares at him. "You mean you planned all along to leave me out of things."

"No. Well, I...I left myself the option, yes."

I have to pity the man. I know they had a close call in Louisiana, and I saw his face every time someone pointed at her and said 'bang' in the hotel. His nerves were shot before the operation even started.

I walk around my desk and take the other visitor's chair, signaling that I'm not speaking as their boss so much as their friend. "Listen. I know it's difficult, mixing the personal and professional. It requires some...flexibility. Compromise."

Poor Lisbon blushes bright pink. Did she really think I didn't know?

"At the same time," I continue, "the safety of the team and the people we're trying to protect cannot be put at risk, for any reason. I'm sure you both understand that."

"Yes," Lisbon says firmly.

"Of course," Jane says. "I'd just like to point out that I didn't throw anybody under the bus here. Lisbon is the person I'm most worried about, but that doesn't mean I'd ever put you or Cho or Wylie or Vega in a dangerous position if I could possibly help it. I'm not heartless."

"Good to know," I say dryly. He gives me a cheeky grin, while Lisbon looks exasperated.

It's no good talking to them both while they're fighting. I'm not a marriage counselor. "Let's handle this one on one. Lisbon first. Jane?" I gesture toward the door.

For a second, it looks like he's going to refuse. Does he really think I'm going to sabotage this relationship? A smart man like him should know Lisbon will feel better if she's allowed to vent.

He apparently reaches the same conclusion, because he gets up and leaves. I bet he's picked a spot where he can watch her, though.

"Now," I say, smiling at Lisbon in my very best "I'm on your side" way. "First of all, thank you for bringing this to my attention. I know it couldn't have been a easy call."

"Jane wouldn't endanger the team on purpose," she says, looking down at her hands, "but he doesn't always think straight when he's...emotionally involved."

"Understandable. Lisbon, this doesn't reflect on you. You're a terrific agent, and you make Jane a better consultant. We're lucky to have you."

"Thank you," she says, but she doesn't sound happy. "But...I'm not sure I do make him better. I think I might be too much of a distraction for him now."

"Are you considering a transfer?" I try to hide my horror at the thought.

"Maybe. It wouldn't be my first choice," she sighs.

Well, thank heavens for that. "Look. I'll talk this over with Cho, let him know what to watch out for. But as long as we're all aware of Jane's tendency in these situations, I think we can compensate."

She gives me a skeptical look. Well, I did just imply we could outfox Patrick Jane, and she knows what the odds are. "I don't want you to put me on desk duty because Jane doesn't want me in the field. I need to do my job. And that means taking my share of the risk."

"I respect that," I assure her. "But there are all kinds of risks, Teresa. Getting shot or beat up, or even killed, is a risk every agent understands. But think this through with me. If you die in the field, it's over for you. No more pain. But for me and Cho and the others, our troubles are just beginning. Because while you're sitting on a cloud strumming on a harp, we're left with the shattered remains of what used to be Patrick Jane." I pause to let that sink in. "He'll be a suicide risk at best—I've read his file. I know he was committed after his family's murder. I know there's no way he'll ever be useful again if he loses you. I know we will try to help him, but I also know he won't want to be helped. And none of us signed up for that."

Her shoulders slump. "So you're saying my job is to stay alive for Jane. And so you're going to keep me out of the action."

"That's not what I'm saying. You're highly valued as a field agent. You're smart and fast and you have great judgment. I wish I had a dozen of you." That's certainly true. "And you did a fantastic job with your team at the CBI. Cho is a real credit to you."

She smiles a little. "Oh, I can't take credit for Cho."

"I think you can. Some, at least. And I know you appreciate the importance of balancing the load in a team, having one person's strengths complementing their partner's weakness."

"Yes," she says, frowning.

"You see, I view Jane as basically a disabled person," I say, leaning back in my chair. "He's brilliant as hell, but he's an emotional train wreck. His damage is all on the inside, but it's serious."

Lisbon looks wary. "If this metaphor features me as a service dog, I'm resigning."

"That was the farthest thing from my mind," I say quickly. Though it's not a bad metaphor. She's loyal and brave and caring, and she would go after anyone who hurt Jane. "My point is, sometimes we have to compensate for his weak spots. That might mean, every now and then, letting someone else be the first through the door, but it doesn't mean you're not pulling your weight. And it means not putting the decision of who goes through that door in Jane's hands. Rest assured, Cho and I will be on the lookout for that."

"I appreciate that," she says. She still looks unhappy, though. Well, there was no way I was going to make them both happy. "Um...when you discuss this with Cho, could you... We're keeping things under wraps, trying to be low key. I'd really appreciate it if we could avoid gossip."

Oh my God, she's serious. I manage to keep a straight face, just barely. "Well, I'll ask Cho to be discreet, but you know what a Chatty Cathy he can be."

Lisbon chokes out a laugh. "Thanks."

"I'm glad we had this talk," I tell her. "If you have concerns going forward, please feel free to bring them to me."

"I will. Thanks."

"Now send Jane in here before he explodes," I chuckle.

One down, one to go.

Jane saunters in, relaxing in the other chair in an aggressive display of nonchalance. I bite back a smirk of my own. The man just can't help himself; when it comes to Lisbon, he has to make sure we all know he's the alpha in our pack.

"You dug yourself quite a hole there, Jane."

"I trust you didn't dig it any deeper," he replies.

"I did my best to assure her that she's valued as more than your favorite teddy bear."

He scowls, and I nod, acknowledging that comment was over the line. Then I say, "I get where you're coming from. And I get that it won't change. But there's a limit to how unhappy I'm willing to make her on your behalf."

"Good. Because I don't want her to be unhappy."

"Then let her do her job. I promise you, neither Cho nor I will put her in any needless danger."

"I'd like that assurance better without the adjective," he points out.

"I can't promise her safety, Jane. No one can. Not even you. If you can't handle that fact, maybe you'd better change your strategy."

"Convince her to quit? Even I'm not that good."

"Nonsense." I can't believe I'm advocating for this, but if I can redirect him a little, she'll be less frustrated and they'll both be happier. "It's just a question of incentive. And she's a patient woman, but you dragging your feet doesn't exactly encourage her to rethink her priorities."

"Dragging my feet?" He looks both outraged and confused, so I tap my wedding ring. He grimaces and says, "She wants to keep her private life private. If I take off my ring, people will talk."

"You think they don't already?" It's none of my business, I realize that. But who else does he have to talk to about this stuff?

He actually cringes a little, turning his head to one side, but then takes a deep breath. "If I take off my ring, women will think I'm available. I'll start to get, um, offers. If I can't tell them I'm taken, it'll get harder and harder to deal with them."

I almost laugh. Ah, the curse of the good-looking man. Poor bastard.

"And it would drive Lisbon nuts," he adds with a sigh.

"I imagine it would. I also imagine she'd come to the obvious solution pretty quick." And once they've gone public, every agent they work with will know not to trust his objectivity. Hm, I should have pointed that out to her.

"So you're suggesting I do it?" He's curious, no doubt trying to figure out my angle.

"I think it would give her some new things to think about." Like their future. "But of course, if you're not ready—"

"It's not that," he protests. Of course, he'd never admit it if it was.

"I know it's not my business," I say, "but I've been married long enough to know that you've got to keep things fair. Make no mistake, you're asking her to give something up here. You better offer her something to make it worth her while. Think about that a little." I get up. "I have a meeting in a minute. Don't screw this up, Jane. You're not going to do better than her, no matter how many 'offers' you get."

"I know that," he snaps as he leaves.

Well. That was a good day's work right there.

I hope.


	4. Jane Again

**Author's Note: **And here's the end. Sorry for the delay—the 7x10 promo threw me for a loop and it took a while to get back to the right headspace for this. Thanks to everyone who's still reading, especially those who let me know what you thought!

**Chapter 4: Jane**

Fortunately nothing today requires more than a modicum of my attention, so I spend most of it on my couch pondering. And napping. By the time Lisbon's ready to leave, I've come to the conclusion that Abbott might be right. I'll take off the ring when we get home and see how it goes. Maybe at first I'll just leave it off when we're on our own time, if it's too hard to get used to.

I wonder how long it will take Lisbon to notice? The more it's been bothering her, the faster she'll spot it.

We usually take turns hosting our sleepovers, so tonight we head for the Airstream, stopping for takeout along the way. While Lisbon is in the bathroom, I take off my ring, rolling it around in my palm for a few seconds. I smile, remembering Angela's expression when she put it on my finger.

This ring was given to me as a sign of her love, but I turned it into a sign of my guilt. It was what I needed to do to survive, but I regret it. It's only now that I am loved again that I realize how much I kept myself from remembering the good times. And they are worth remembering.

I carefully put the ring in the glove compartment, where it will be safe and Lisbon won't stumble across it.

We don't talk much over dinner; she's still a little cranky. Doubtless she thinks Abbott is on my side. He is, of course, but he sympathizes with her. I think she'd be happier if she realized that. "Abbott told me not to screw this up," I remark. "He said I'd never do better than you."

She snorts into her drink. "But he didn't tell you to calm down and let me do my job."

"Not in so many words. He did tell me that since I am asking you to give something up, I'd better make it worth your while."

"Oh?" That gets her attention, and she puts her beer bottle down to look at me.

"Which I plan to do." I keep my expression serious, holding her gaze.

Then I get up and take her hand, gently pulling her to her feet and into my arms. I press her against me and lower my mouth to devour hers, gratified when she responds with equal fervor.

I don't think it through, don't plan, don't try to impress her. I just let the raw passion inside me express itself, desperate to be with her, be in her. In no time she's naked beneath me and I'm surrounded by her heat, drunk on how this feels.

Afterward, I collapse in a sweaty, breathless heap, my brain unable to goad my body into further movement.

Slowly coming to my senses, I try to roll off her, but she holds me in place. Once I've settled again, she runs her fingers through my hair, humming a little. "Not that I'm complaining," she says when she catches her breath, "but what was that about?"

I nibble on her shoulder, and she rolls us onto our sides. "I've been thinking about risk," I say. "And living with it."

"Yeah?" She leans back to look at me, her eyes worried.

"Yeah." I comb a few stray strands of hair off her face. "And it seems to me that if I accept that any day could be the last one we have together, I have to make each day as good as I can. And each night." I trace her cute little nose with a fingertip, then stroke her cheek. "Because every sunrise might be our last. And I don't want the one who's left behind to regret any wasted opportunities."

"Patrick," she whispers. Her eyes shine as she reaches up to pet my hair.

"If it's me..." I break off to swallow hard, struggling for composure. "If it's me, I want as many memories of making love with you as possible. And if it's you, I want there to be no doubt in your mind that you were loved, fiercely and unreservedly. That you made my life joyous again. That the best part of my day was your smile and my favorite place on earth was in your arms. That your happiness was my dearest wish and highest goal. And after I'm gone I only want you to remember the good times, not the bad."

She sniffs a little and gives me a light kiss. "And if you're the one who's still here, I want you to remember that whether you believe it or not, I'm watching over you, and if you do anything stupid, I will find a way to kick your ass."

That is why she's sweetly sad instead of frightened at the thought of losing me: she doesn't think death is a permanent separation. She doesn't know what it's like to have absolutely no hope of seeing someone she loves again.

She has no idea how terrible life without hope is.

I'm not certain of the exact entry requirements to her church's version of heaven, but I'm pretty sure I don't meet them, so there's a flaw in her logic. But I'm not going to point it out. She might need the comfort someday.

Of course, maybe saints get some kind of two-for-one deal and she's planning to use her extra ticket for me.

"So you'd be the angel on my shoulder?" I tease her. "I much prefer the little devil in my bed."

She grins, sliding her knee between mine. "Good, because I'm not planning on giving up my spot. It took me too long to get here."

"Mm. Yes, it did," I agree, twisting one dark curl around my finger and admiring its softness and strength as I gently unspool it. Then I run a finger from her bare shoulder to her elbow, amazed that her skin is so smooth over her sleek muscles. This is the essence of Lisbon: strength hidden in beauty. No wonder she can't fully understand that under my own surface there is no iron core, only an unstable mess of fault lines. One more temblor and it could all crumble.

"You're usually so far ahead of everyone that it, uh, sometimes it's hard for me to remember that I need to be patient with you when it comes to the personal stuff," she says softly.

I slide my hand in hers. "I'm trying," I assure her.

"I know." She kisses me softly, playing with my fingers.

I sense the instant she notices the vacant indentation on my ring finger. She sucks in a sharp breath and freezes, then picks my hand up to look at it. "Where's your ring?"

"The glove box," I reply. "Seemed like a good safe place for it, at least until I figure out something permanent."

"You...you're sure you're ready?"

"So far, so good," I say. I fold my hand around hers and kiss it. "I want you to feel sure of me. I'm all in, Teresa. Nothing held back."

She whispers my first name, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"And I know it surprised you that I didn't have a plan for us, but I'd like for us to come up with one. Together. Because my future is with you, Teresa. I want to make a home with you."

"What happened to sailing around the world?"

"We need to choose something we both want," I tell her. "But you haven't said what you want, other than your job. The only thing I have to go on is that drawing you did in your closet when you were little: a happy couple with their little house and a baby and a dog. Is that still what you envision a happy life to be?"

She's very still; she's even stopped breathing. Her eyes lock onto mine, and she searches desperately for something there. She must not find it, though, because she scoots down to tuck her face in my neck and murmurs, "I gave up on that a long time ago."

"That's not an answer," I point out.

She's quiet for a long time, and I wonder if she's not going to give me an answer at all, at least not tonight. I know her answer, of course, but it's important for her to say it. She can't have any doubt that the path we choose is truly a mutual decision.

"I...I'd like to have a home together, yes," she says finally. "Maybe a little bigger place than my house."

"With a bigger kitchen," I agree.

"If you want. And a bigger yard. For if we end up with a more regular schedule and decide to get a dog."

"I'd like that," I say. Company for her on her morning run, a little added security for the house, something happy and loving to add joy to our lives.

There's one element of the picture she's reluctant to address, afraid of what I'll say. We already disagree about our jobs, and she doesn't want to open a new source of conflict. But we're not as far apart as she might think.

"You don't need to tiptoe around the question of children, Teresa. It's hard for me to talk about, yes, but we need to be able to talk about anything."

She lifts her head to look at me. "Do you...have you thought about having another child?" Her voice is soft and warm, trying to soothe the hurt she's afraid her question will cause.

"Not a lot," I admit. "The idea of being responsible for a child again is terrifying. I...can't guarantee I wouldn't be a paranoid mess sometimes. But I think I could handle it, because I'd know it wasn't only up to me. And the one person in the world I'd trust to protect my child is you."

She smiles, trembling a little as it sinks in that yes, she can have her dream after all.

I need to be honest about my motives, though. I smile back, then kiss her gently. "But you know having a baby will mean major life changes."

Lisbon nods. "Yeah. Of course. But I can keep my job."

"Not really," I say.

"I know I'll need to go on desk duty while I'm pregnant, but afterward there's no reason I can't be a field agent." She frowns at me.

"Except that the minute you look down at that helpless little person in your arms with my eyes and your mouth, all your priorities will shift. And you'll realize that you're not willing to take any risk that will leave our little miracle motherless."

She blinks, surprised that I'd go there.

"I remember the first time I held Charlotte. It...turns your life upside down. No matter how ready you think you are, it still hits you like a lightning bolt. Your life is no longer your own. Now it's about this child. I know you'll feel that, maybe even more than I did." I swallow. "That's why I think I can do it, Teresa. Because doing what's best for our child means caring more about your own safety. You'll do it for the baby, even if you won't for me."

She looks stricken, reaching up to lay her hand on my cheek. "I do think about my safety for you, Patrick. I'm not careless. I don't do anything I think I can't handle. I know being with you means I...have an obligation not to cause you pain if I can help it." She sighs. "Look, Abbott agrees with you. He's going to talk to Cho. I won't be sidelined, but they both know that if they want you able to work, I have to be okay. You don't need to worry so much about keeping me safe, because you're not the only one thinking about it, okay?"

"Good to know." I'm not outsourcing her safety, even to Cho. But I think this is as much progress as I can expect in one evening. I need to let her think about the future and what she really wants, now that she has something to hang on to besides her job.

She sighs a little, knowing I'm not really okay with the compromise. But then I've never been good at accepting anything except what I really want. "And I'll think about what you've said. I will."

"Thank you." I kiss her again, more deeply this time.

We will work this out and find something that makes both of us happy. I'm more confident of that than ever. And if it takes a while, well, I'm sure it will be worth waiting for.

We settle in to fall asleep, her hand over my heart and her breath puffing softly against my neck. I turn my head toward her, nuzzling her hair, and close my eyes. "Sweet dreams," I whisper.

"Mm. You too," she yawns. A minute later she's asleep.

I hope she dreams of a nice house in a good school district with a yard and a dog and a swingset, a home she's happy to leave work promptly at 5 to get to, knowing her husband will have dinner on the table at 6 and her son is waiting for her to play catch with him until he has to set the table.

And I hope I dream about meeting her at the door every night with a welcome home kiss, not having to pretend I didn't spend the day worrying about her. And every night we'll watch the sunset together and be grateful for another day of the wonderful life we lead.

We're so close, I can almost taste it. I just hope we get there soon.


End file.
